


Bandaids

by deerskull_writes



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: DadSpy, Gen, but in this story he's autobalanced to blu, diet rogue lore: he's a kid that the admin made spy mentor and teach how to be a spy, rogue isnt on a team he works directly for the administrator, so essentially rogue is the adopted little brother to scout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerskull_writes/pseuds/deerskull_writes
Summary: The sting of his hands as he held them tight and close to his chest, lower lip trembling as he tries to steel his nerves and find the box of medical supplies in the kitchen, seeing the red on his bare hands and nearly scaring himself into a flashback. Oswin had been trying to get better at using the balisong, just as he was being taught how to, but his panicked failures were getting the better of him more and more. First it was floundering with the disguise kit, then it was forgetting about the limited time he had while cloaked, and now he was failing to open a damn knife. To add insult to injury, he had forgotten where he left the leather gloves he was given to protect his hands while he practiced, resulting in the numerous cuts on his hands.It was when he was washing the blood from his hands that he became aware of eyes on him, turning quickly with his mind already racing.
Kudos: 7





	Bandaids

There’s something about friends coming to his aid that hits differently to Rogue. No sooner had he made it clear to his teammates that he had injured himself while attempting to learn how to properly flip a balisong (and had been biting at his own fingers, but that was a personal problem), two of his BLU teammates - Spy and Engineer - had quickly come along to patch his fingers up with bandaids and the healing power of a Dispenser. It was a surprise to say the least, and another reminder of how isolated he had been while taking care of the Administrator’s business for her. A pleasant surprise, nonetheless. It’s always nice to remember how much people can care about you.

As Rogue sits in Engie’s workshop in a quiet corner, swinging his legs gently as he watches the various cuts and bite marks across his hands slowly stitch up under the blue vapour expelled by the Dispenser, it gets him thinking of the last time something like this had happened. The way BLU’s Spy carefully bandaged his hands, how Engie smiled and pat him gently on the head. . . It must have been a long, long time ago, and yet, experiencing the parallels made them crystal clear in his mind.

~

The sting of his hands as he held them tight and close to his chest, lower lip trembling as he tries to steel his nerves and find the box of medical supplies in the kitchen, seeing the red on his bare hands and nearly scaring himself into a flashback. Oswin had been trying to get better at using the balisong, just as he was being taught how to, but his panicked failures were getting the better of him more and more. First it was floundering with the disguise kit, then it was forgetting about the limited time he had while cloaked, and now he was failing to open a damn knife. To add insult to injury, he had forgotten where he left the leather gloves he was given to protect his hands while he practised, resulting in the numerous cuts on his hands.

It was when he was washing the blood from his hands that he became aware of eyes on him, turning quickly with his mind already racing, only to find Spy standing at the entrance to the kitchen, hands up to show he means no threat. He didn’t have the mask or his gloves on either, so the two of them weren’t needed for anything, allowing Oswin to relax a little more. Then, the boy remembers his injuries, stumbling for an excuse as he tries and fails to turn off the tap and hide his hands, but Spy- no, he’s allowed to call him Rene while they weren’t working- was too quick for him. A hand offers him a clean dishcloth to dry his hands with and a voice tells him to go sit at the table, and the young rogue can do nothing but quietly obey.

He watches Rene as he collects various things from across the kitchen, unable to bear looking at his own hands as a feeling of dread deepens in his chest, turning his stomach over and over. He’s screwed up big time, and he _knows_ that Rene’s going to be mad at him for being so careless, and for having to wait until his hands heal up before they do any other training, and if he could just sink into the floor he gladly would. But anger isn’t what he’s met with as the man walks over and opens the medical box, taking out a box of bandaids and kneeling down in front of Oswin.

“Show me your hands.” He says softly, putting one of his own out to gently hold them. Oswin does as he’s told, unable to stop the whimper that escapes him as he really sees how injured he let himself become. 

His heart jolts in his chest as Rene pauses, then begins to take bandaids from the box and place them over the worst of his cuts, silently covering all the wounds of one hand before moving onto the other. It takes all of his courage and strength to not move, to not dispel the nervous energy rattling around in his body, but he manages to sit still long enough for his mentor to finish up. 

“You were training by yourself, yes?” He spoke evenly, but there was something about the tone that Oswin couldn’t discern, and it scared him.

“Yes.” The boy mumbles in return, slowly pulling his hands back and resting them in his lap.

“You know that you shouldn’t do that. You got yourself hurt. What else could have happened if I was not around to help you?”

Oswin bites his lip, staring at the floor and trying very hard not to cry. “I’m sorry.” He stutters out, shoulders raising and tensing to brace for impact. Though of course, no hit comes. He forgets that he’s not with them anymore.

There’s a long pause before Rene speaks again, standing to clear the mess as he does so. “It’s alright. I hope this serves as a useful lesson.” His movements slow as he closes the medical box, his expression subtly thoughtful. Suddenly, he turns to walk out of the room. “Stay there a moment. I have something for you.”

The vagueness of the statement was enough to make him nervous, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and jigging a knee up and down as he waited. It feels like it takes an eternity, despite only being a few minutes, for Rene to return, two items in his hands. Nervousness forgotten, Oswin peers up at the items, seeing what they are when his mentor retakes his place kneeling on the floor. A gold-coloured watch and what looks to be a large knife in a sheath. He glances up at Rene, uncertain.

“I was going to wait until your next training session to give you these, but now is a good enough time as ever. I believe this equipment will help you learn the ropes easier. This watch allows you to stay cloaked for as long as you stay still, and this knife is more. . . what you are used to, instead of using a balisong.” As he speaks, he gently puts the watch around Oswin’s left wrist, then slowly removes the rather ornate blade from it’s leather sheath. “It’s connected to the disguise kit, so instead of having to make a disguise yourself, you can take someone out and disguise yourself as them instead.”

  
  
Cautiously, Oswin reaches out to run his fingers along the engraving on the knife, hesitating a moment as it’s offered out to him before taking it into his hand. It wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be, being such a big blade, decently weighted - at least he imagined so, he wasn’t an expert on knives. He must’ve been smiling, because as he looks up, Rene is too.

“There you go. I knew that would cheer you up.” Standing up, he pauses a moment, then reaches out and gently pats the boy on the head. It didn’t feel like a thought-out action, something done in the spur of the moment, and certainly a little awkward due to how robot-like it was - an up-and-down motion instead of a soft side-to-side tussle. It was okay though, the meaning got through.

“Um. . . um, thank you!” Oswin beams, carefully replacing the knife into the sheath and putting it down on the table.

“ _De rein._ ” He replies, not bothering to hide the soft chuckle as his student makes a noise of disgust at his use of French.

~

By the time Rogue blinks himself out of the memory-induced daydream, his hands had healed up and then some. Taking a deep breath, he grins, hopping down from his seat and waving at Engie as he leaves, thanking him profusely again as he goes.

It’s always a little hard thinking about the past. Things had changed quite a lot since then, in many ways. Rogue was a boy new to being a son, and Spy was a man still new to being a father. They both learned a lot from each other, but nowadays it seems all that had completely disappeared in Spy. The kindness and compassion he knows his mentor has, simply gone except for small moments of vulnerability to the right people, instead replaced by insults and smugness laced with bitterness and regrets.

Rogue sighs, sinking into his scarf a little as he heads back to his room. At least in these recent times, it seemed like Spy was starting to get better at this while “being a nice person” thing, or at the very least wanting to try to get better. It’s better than nothing, he thinks to himself. It takes time for things like that to heal and get better, and it’s always helped by someone putting a bandaid over it for you.


End file.
